


Bloodgrass

by Something_Inconspicuous



Category: Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion
Genre: Alchemy, F/M, Vampirism, original plotline
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-14
Updated: 2015-09-13
Packaged: 2018-04-20 16:46:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4794854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Something_Inconspicuous/pseuds/Something_Inconspicuous
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mabrel and Jean are married. They've been working for the Arcane University as field alchemists, traveling to the various provinces to collect samples and conduct research on native reagents. But one day, on their way back to the Imperial City after a lengthy trip to Morrowind, they wander a little too close to a cave. What happens next may be too much to endure for one lifetime, but Mabrel vows that the two must never be split up. She will have to rely on the help of a stranger to save her love. But the cave she finds herself in runs deeper than she thinks, and spreads further than she can imagine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bloodgrass

**Author's Note:**

> A story, the first chapter of which has been sitting in my journal for some time. It's in the TES universe but doesn't really interact with the Oblivion plotline. I may include some cameos later on. We'll see. Pretty much an original plot with original characters but not original lore. So uh...enjoy. Do feel free to comment. But if you're just going to correct some minor detail, like "Uhm, according to my calculations, that vampire couldn't have been in the sun for that long so!!!!Fix it!!!!Plz!!!!", do us all a favor and chill.

Two mages were making their way to the Imperial City. They traveled on the Blue Road, having arrived from Morrowind after a brief research expedition. They'd barely made it out of there with their bodies intact, but the Arcane University had insisted that they collect updated samples of current indigenous plant species. Now that there are reports of plants once unique to Vvardenfell appearing in other areas, the University wants to lead the project of examining any adaptations. Thus looking to see if any new alchemical effects can be observed. 

"Remind me again why we chose to be the University's chief hunting dogs?" the female complained, shifting her pack so it fit more comfortably on her shoulder.

"Mabrel, dear, if you could please stop describing our work in such a crude manor..." her husband pleaded, keeping his eyes on the road ahead.

"I thought we were just going to be...you know, scholarly alchemists. The ones who lock themselves in their work places with nothing but labs and journals at hand." she continued.

"Oh, my love. One day, I promise. But this isn't so bad. Sometimes it's a bit of an adventure. Delving into caves, fighting off enemies. It's a far more practical use of our time, I think." he said cheerily, clearly believing what he said.

"Not so much delving as skimming the surface of caves. And scaring off one little baby kwama is not fighting, Jean. And even so, I would much rather stay where I am comfortable and undoubtedly safe. I don't want to die somewhere where I would never be found. Or be found a skeleton." she argued.

"Well, we are almost there. This mission is done. And we can spend the rest of the week doing as we please about the University." He reminded her, trying to change her attitude.

"Yes, and then we'll be sent away somewhere else. Please don't let it be Skyrim, I can't stand being cold. Though I suppose I'd rather see snowfall than ashfall." She said. Her husband smiled, nodding in agreement. 

They approached a side road, when a familiar sound caught Mabrel's ear.

"Do you hear that?:" she asked, "I believe that is Nirnroot." 

"Hmph. I don't understand your obsession with that plant. Why is everyone so entranced by that stupid singing root? I know about a story of some innkeeper trying to make a drink out of it. Called it Spirit Ale. It glowed in weak light, and if you listened close enough it would sing. The stuff was extremely intoxicating. No one knew the dangerous side of Nirnroot then. Too much of it could kill you, and it did. People started dying. Rumors spread that the spirits of those killed by the drink would force themselves into Nirnroots so they could be put into the drink, hoping they'd be able to kill the innkeeper if he happened upon the drink himself. And then, authorities would storm the inn. Turned out the fella wasn't even using Nirnroot in his drinks. So what was that glowing and singing about? Some believe he was a necromancer, and that he had spirits in the ale. Spirit Ale." Jean said, too caught up in his own story to see that his wife had begun to walk toward the sound. She was halfway down the side road.

"Two sprigs!" she exclaimed, "You go over there, I'll get this one." 

Jean walked wordlessly to his objective, indignant at having been ignored. Mabrel picked her own plant with a quiet reverence. 

"Did you know that some people don't believe in magic? How can that be? Even if some of us didn't have fire bursting from our hands, how could they not believe in magic? It is the blood of Nirn. It glows and sings, like this root. There's something beyond what we know about this plant alchemically. That is why it's my favorite." Mabrel told her husband, who remained silent. 

She looked over to where her husband had been, seeing the Nirnroot was unpicked. She saw that it lay near the mouth of a cave. But her husband was nowhere in sight. 

"Jean?" she called, "Love, now is not the time for games. I'd like to get home before nightfall." 

Night would fall sooner than she'd think. The world turned black, and as she felt her body drop, stars shot past her dying consciousness. 

 

She awoke to a strong smell. It was hard to place, but she recognized it as some sort of reaction. Someone was brewing poison. Perhaps that was what had knocked her out. She had no headaches, but she felt a distinct weakness in her mind and body. Whoever it was, they knew how to effectively poison without killing. She had a sick feeling about why they would decide to keep her alive. A muffled groan caught her attention. 

Jean sat close to her in their cell. He was laying on his left side, with his arms wrapped around his stomach. He was covered in a thin layer of sweat, and his eyes were squeezed shut in pain. Another groan forced its way past his lips, this time it hung heavier in her heart. He was feeling hundreds of times worse than she was, and she didn't know why. She searched the cave for an answer as to what exactly poisoned him, but found only mushrooms.

It likely wouldn't have helped. This seemed a little worse than mere poison. She inched towards him, placing a hand on his forehead. She pulled it back immediately, surprised by the heat radiating from his skin. She gasped. Jean had opened his eyes at her touch, and she could see that they were bloodshot. They were worse than she'd ever seen, and she'd seen some pretty bad eyes during ingredients testing. All the area around his pupils was red. 

Jean kicked at the ground to put distance between him and his wife. He pushed himself far into a corner, grinding his face against the cold stone. Mabrel called out, reaching for him as she tried to calm him down. She cursed herself as he grew more frantic. His arms were bleeding from his thrashing against the cell.

Mabrel tried instead to sit at the opposite corner. This seemed to work. After a few minutes, Jean ceased and returned to his groaning. She sat tormented, trying to puzzle out their situation. She looked outside of their cell, finding no one dead or alive besides themselves. She wondered, seeing other cells from her position, if there were other prisoners here. Someone else who could explain what was happening.

Or....were they alone in this? Mabrel hadn't realized that her feet were bound. Why not her hands? Surely she could burn the ropes away with her magic. And the bars which held them prisoner were weak. Did that mean that their attackers were ill prepared? Or did they not need to restrain their prisoners properly? She shivered at the thought.

She remembered the fact that no one would come looking for them any time soon. They had been early, so no one would expect them to be there until Morndas. A week from present. Why did this have to happen? It wouldn't have if they'd just started as scholars. Adventure be damned, it wasn't worth this. 

As she'd started to wonder if they'd simply been left to rot alone, a swift and purposeful set of footfalls made their way towards their cell. A dark cloaked man appeared outside, his pointed nose looming over taught lips. His eyes indicated no warmth. Mabrel could have sworn she saw a tint of red behind their brownness, but waved it off as an effect of lighting. His skin was poor in complexion, very pale and wrinkled. He stood straight, making his thin body appear to look like a stick. His hands were folded behind his back. They moved up in one swift motion, long, bony fingers efficiently removing his hood. She saw that he was an Altmer, or had at least been Altmer at some point. 

"Breton couple travelling west, no doubt coming from Morrowind based on the contents of their satchels. Found with plant species unique to Vvardenfell, a set of simple potions with some of the bottles empty, one dagger each of decent quality, and some left over provisions. Female taken down with a poison of milk thistle seed extract and bone marrow. Male administered same poison, but showing signs of extreme distress." the Altmer paused, looking to his left. It became apparent that a younger looking Bosmer was writing down all that he was saying. As a sidenote the Altmer added, "Bitten by one of the newcomers, I imagine."

Mabrel's stomach turned. So they were in fact vampires. A new fear took over, the fear of becoming a giant feeding sack. And Jean...would he turn into one of them? Or was he just sick from the bite? She started as the Bosmer opened their cell door, crouching over Jean's shaking form. She noticed that her husband didn't try to resist the elf's approach. 

"Yes, I see a bite wound here. Looks too shallow to be an older member's. Someone must be punished for this. What should we do with him if he survives the turning?" The elf said everything quickly and businesslike. 

"If he has indeed been made a receiver of our gift, he may be allowed to stay. We could always use more skilled alchemists. If not, I suppose we'll just kill him. Come, take him out of there. If he does turn we don't need him biting our only blood supply left. Then we will find the one responsible for his wound." the Altmer ordered. 

Mabrel's eyes grew wide. They couldn't take Jean! She tried to stand, finding the energy to lift herself from the ground. She watched the tiny Bosmer take Jean's arms and tug him out of the cell. Her husband put up no fight, his eyes looking defeated and unwilling to struggle. In fact, he seemed happy to be taken away. She screamed in protest, doing her best to issue intelligible profanities. But her speech was slurred, and her fight was weak. She fell back to the ground, helpless as the cell door was shut again. Jean was taken out of view, leaving the Altmer to stare at her. He watched her with his disgusted gaze before turning and heading the same direction the Bosmer had gone. 

Mabrel wept, growing tired as the tears soaked her eyes. She couldn't sleep, though. The grief in her heart kept her from doing so. Eventually when the tears passed she lay her head against the hard stone, closing her eyes as she listened to the musings of the cave. A bit of dust or stone would fall, or an unseen rodent would scratch at the stone as it hunted for something to eat. 

The one thing that never ceased was the wind. The cave was constantly inhaling, as if some ancient giant was taking a very slow breath. It whistled by her cell mournfully, carrying whispers from the outside world. But something else chased those whispers, captured the good spirit of the wind and turned it cruel. The smell of blood hitched a ride on the wind as well, coming in to tell Mabrel what it knows.

She noticed something underneath the wind. A far more familiar sound, that of a human's breath. Someone else was nearby. 

"Hello?" Mabrel called, unsure what she hoped to gain.

Silence. Of course they didn't answer. Were they even a prisoner? Was someone even there, or was she hearing things? Clinging to hope, she continued to call out. 

"Please, if there is someone there, tell me so." she pleaded. 

At first there was no answer. But then, an uncertain shuffling of feet echoed off the cave walls. Someone was here, there was no doubt now.

"Please...tell me what's happened. What are they doing with my husband? What are they going to do to us?" she continued. There was an exasperated sound. 

"Doesn't matter. We're going to die, and your husband ain't going to get off much easier." a man's voice finally answered. 

"Blunt. Not a helpful blunt," Mabrel said.

"Hmph." came the reply. 

"I...I never wanted this. I just wanted to go home. My husband...Oh, Jean!" she began weeping again, earning no sympathy from the man across from her cell. She noticed his breathing was inaudible now.

"Hello?" she called, sniffling.

"Right here." the man's voice sounded rougher, as if he were suppressing a cough.

"Are you--" before she could finish her sentence, the same sets of footsteps started echoing past the cells. 

The elves positioned themselves dutifully outside the man's cell. Mabrel crawled to the bars on her door, peeking through to see what was happening. 

"So it was you, Elijah?" The Altmer asked, his tone bored. He sighed before continuing, regarding the Bosmer. "I suppose the master's vengeance shall be wrought sooner than planned. We cannot afford to lose anymore meals to this...rogue. Inform the family that we will hold the pyre tonight." 

The Bosmer nodded, heading in the opposite direction from which they came. The Altmer returned his attention to the man's cell.

"It was a foolish move on your part to infect our cattle. Lucky for us, mages always travel in pairs." a cruel smile crossed the elf's lips as he turned to Mabrel. His eyes locked on hers, revealing every menacing intention behind his words. She would not blame it on the light. His eyes were tainted with flecks of red, the beginnings of his demonic hunger manifesting in his irises. She shuddered. Jean's eyes would look like that soon.

"Damn you." She whispered. The vampire chuckled, shaking his head.

"Oh, my dear, I am already well beyond damnation."


End file.
